


I'm Awfully Fond Of You

by SomebodyOwens



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Getting Together, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-20
Updated: 2015-12-20
Packaged: 2018-05-07 21:30:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5471450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SomebodyOwens/pseuds/SomebodyOwens
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Step 1: Publish Nudes in ESPN.<br/>Step 2: ?????<br/>Step 3: PROFIT!</p>
<p>Or: In which Tyler Seguin embarks on a seduction, and is successful despite himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm Awfully Fond Of You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ataratah](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ataratah/gifts).



> Ataratah, you requested something related to the photoshoot, and this is definitely _related_ if not actually about that ridiculousness. 
> 
> Endless thanks to N for performing beta and cheerleading duties so admirably.

**1\. Publish Nudes in ESPN**

Tyler is no stranger to cameras. He's no stranger to being naked in front of people, to having his body examined, to being photographed. He's used to locker rooms and doctors' offices, TV interviews and photoshoots. Frankly, he's used to being the center of attention.

Agreeing to the ESPN shoot was easy. An obvious yes, for the publicity and because why the hell not? Tyler's body looks good and he knows it (even if his lack of ass is still an easy target for chirps). They ask him about trying a goofier set up, and he agrees to that too. Easy. He has his bout of nerves the night before, fantasizes about calling his agent and canceling, and shakes it off. 

The first few minutes of the shoot feel weird. He's bundled up in a fluffy robe and a pair of slippers, and a PA is talking him through the basics of the shoot. Nothing new there, except the lack of outfit changes required. But he knows he's about to strip down, and everyone around him is just waiting for him to bare it all. It's not quite the same as changing in a locker room, where everyone gets naked, and no one admits to looking. 

But the weirdest part comes most of the way through the shoot, when Tyler realizes he's been hanging around with his dick out for ages, and it isn't awkward. In fact, he's sucking on a popsicle while slouching on a zamboni, and the primary thought racing through his mind is, "What will Jamie say?"

Nothing, it turns out. 

Tyler is not really surprised when he doesn't hear anything from Jamie about the pics at first. It's summer and they've gone their separate ways, even if they still text pretty often. Tyler may entertain to occasional fantasy of Jamie gazing in adoration as he watches Tyler's ESPN interview, but he's not quite stupid enough to think that could actually happen.

But a week after the magazine goes out, the most he's heard out of Jamie is a wordless text with a picture of a fish he'd caught and then a pic of (presumably) that same fish, baked and served with rice and veggies. It's a nice fish and a tasty looking meal, but seriously?

_C'mon dude. I publish a bunch of nudes and you don't say anything?_

_Mom says if u cant say nice things dnt say anythn at all_

Tyler squawks, then at Marshall's baleful look, apologises for disturbing him. Before he can think of an appropriate response, his phone rings and Jamie's face appears on the screen. In case Tyler has forgotten--in the last thirty seconds--that Jamie is secretly an ass, the first words out of his mouth are, "That duck was way too big."

"Fuck you too!" Tyler sputters over Jamie's laugh. 

"Dude, I only needed one hand." He follows that with a little breath of air, like he's sucked in a breath, like he's trying to pull the words back in. 

They don't talk about it, the hand jobs they exchanged just after the season ended. Tyler had followed Jamie home from the bar, ostensibly to make sure he made it, though neither one of them had touched their third beers. Tyler had trailed behind Jamie all the way up to Jamie's bedroom, and then he was in Jamie's bed and they were kissing, rough and uncoordinated.

Except apparently they're still not talking about it, because Jamie plows right through Tyler's "Wait, so--"

"Anyway. Are you prepared for rubber duckies everywhere? Because you're never going to hear the end of this. You know that, right?"

Tyler would really like to deny it, but Candace and Cassidy have already sent him a rubber duckie sex toy and his mother (his _mother_!) has been sending him every rubber duckie e-card she can find.

"That is chirp material for ages, dude." Jamie's voice gets quiet, and he adds, "But seriously. You looked great. Really fucking-- yeah. Um." And Tyler understands, sees the shooting lane as it starts to form, that his crush isn't one sided.

 

**2\. ?????**

Look, they hooked up once and that got them a pair of orgasms and some awkward silences. And talking about feelings without the cushion of alcohol sounds terrible, so Tyler's next option is putting himself on display and flirting like his life depends on it until Jamie bites. Luckily, those are skills at which Tyler exceeds.

He has to wait until they're both back in Dallas, but once they are, it's all shirtless lounging and curling his tongue over the lip of his beer bottle, sucking on his finger after tasting the salad dressing and demonstrating his new pilates flexibility.

He awards himself a point every time he catches Jamie staring, and two points for staring and blushing. (He adds the two points corollary when they're working out, and Tyler casually curls his hand over 

So Tyler's been playing the long game (okay, it's been a couple of weeks. That's a hell of a lot longer than making eyes at someone across a bar an hour before going home with them) and has amassed a nice collection of points. There's still a chance it could be wishful thinking, but Tyler's 47 invisible hash marks sure suggest that Jamie is interested.

Plus, when Jamie saw the I Rub My Duckie toy in its place of honor on the side table, he choked and turned red, and then didn't say anything at all. Tyler may not be the most observant, but this whole "pretend it's not happening" thing of Jamie's sure makes it look like he is actually feeling things. Right? If Jamie wasn't having impure thoughts about Tyler's cock, he surely would have chirped Tyler endlessly for having an actual sex toy sitting around.

Tyler's not exactly surprised at how much fun he's having teasing Jamie, but it does escalate from "wouldn't it be funny" to "I will tease you until you break" pretty fast. Though to be fair, Tyler's not sure if Jamie breaking is going to net him a furious make-out against the fridge or Jamie throwing him bodily across the room with no sexy intentions at all.

Not that it matters to Tyler; either option is spank bank _gold_.

(Of course, it does actually matter to Tyler. He'd really prefer option one, preferably to be followed by a lifetime of kisses and dirty fucks and snuggles and just-because presents and all that. But there's still a tiny part of him worried that Jamie's not saying anything because he's figured out what Tyler's doing and is planning to let him down gently).

Tyler curls his tongue around the rim of his glass and then mentally fist pumps and awards himself another point when Jamie swallow hard.

 

**3\. PROFIT!**

The first practice back feels like magic, fresh faces and old friends on the ice together. There's almost as much horsing around as actual practice, including that damn yellow duck waiting for him at his stall, and Jordie not even bothering to smother his snickering. Once they're showered and changed, Tyler doesn't have to work much to convince Jamie to come back to his place for dinner. He gets as far as a nod towards the door and a, "Hey, you wanna--" before Jamie's nodding.

Tacos are easy to prepare and provide plenty of flirting opportunities, and throughout the evening, Tyler manages to leave a smear of sour cream on his lip, squeeze a lime so the juice runs all the way down his arm (to be licked off, naturally), demonstrate his sucking prowess by picking up things with nothing but his straw and the suction of his mouth, and all but fellating a beer bottle.

But his _pièce de résistance_ comes when they're doing the dishes together (with Brownie's voice shouting "so married!" in the back of his head). Tyler manages to bend over just as Jamie steps towards the sink, and it's all ass, meet crotch in the best way. Jamie steps back fast but not before Tyler can feel the semi he's hiding. Tyler deserves an award for not saying anything right then, and also for not immediately launching himself at Jamie. But he doesn't. He finishes loading the dishwasher, then "accidentally" splashes water on his shirt as planned.

And then strips it off right there in the kitchen while Jamie watches, also as planned.

What he doesn't plan for is Jamie grabbing the fabric while Tyler's arms are still inside, twisting it around his fist and shoving Tyler backwards into (yesss!) the fridge.

Jamie pins him with arms trapped above his head and bare back pressed against the cold metal, and stares. He gets in close, looks at Tyler like he's trying to pull his intentions out through his eyeballs, and then... doesn't do anything.

They stay frozen, Jamie leaning his weight against Tyler's hip (so there's no actual dick contact, alas) and Tyler thoroughly pinned. Tyler's pretty sure he should say something, but his brain's not coming up with much more than "fuck, do that again" and he at least knows that would fuck this up. Whatever _this_ is.

Finally, Jamie says "What do you want?" still glaring down at Tyler's face.

And oh Jesus, if he hasn't figured that part out already, Tyler's gonna have to talk to the team doc about concussion symptoms. "You. I want you." Tyler flexes his hips forward a little, to see if his so very interested dick can make the point clearer, but Jamie shoves him back.

"But what do you _want_ with me?" Jamie shakes the fist still tangled in Tyler's shirt, like he'd rather be shaking Tyler instead, and glares some more.

Tyler has every intention of saying "I want your dick in me," because they can start with sex and then sort out the feelings when they're all lazy with orgasms.

Except what comes out of his mouth is "I want whatever you can give me."

Tyler watches Jamie's face carefully, but when Jamie just keeps on staring, the panic starts to set in and the "get out get out get OUT" voice shouting in his head grows until it's nearly deafening. He's confessed to wanting everything with Jamie and Jamie isn't reacting. This was... not a possibility Tyler had planned for.

He yanks his arms down again, this time with intention, but Jamie only twists the t-shirt tighter. "What the fuck, dude. Let me go!"

"I can't."

All the arousal and adrenaline surging through Tyler melts into rage, the sort of blinding anger he almost always keeps banked, but which creeps out when he's far away from cameras. Like now. "You asshole. What, you're not done humiliating me? Play Tyler's little games, string him along, then make sure he knows how bad he misjudged that one? Was that your plan?"

Jamie's frowning but he still hasn't let go, and he opens his mouth to say something but Tyler's not quite done yet.

"Gonna tell all the guys that I like dick, tell 'em how you watched me throw myself at you and you just laughed? Gonna make sure they know how fucked up I am?" It's not fair at all, but that doesn't matter to Tyler. He's shaking, pinned, and way more scared than he's willing to admit.

He takes a breath to keep going, but before he can start his next tirade, Jamie bites out a "Jesus, shut _up_ ," and smashes their lips together.

It can hardly be called a kiss with how Tyler's head smacks against the fridge and their noses bonk and Jamie is mostly biting at him, but Tyler still revels in the weight of Jamie's pressed against him and the spit slick slide of lips and tongue.

For a minute.

Then he kicks Jamie hard in the shin.

Jamie pulls back but he still doesn't let go of Tyler's fucking shirt. Tyler's vaguely wondering if he's actually welded himself to the fridge. "What was that for?"

Tyler expects the rage to come roaring back, but instead finds himself just tired. He slumps backward, then winces when that pulls uncomfortably at his wrist. Jamie immediately lets go and steps back. "Fucking finally," Tyler mutters, then glares at Jamie. "What just happened?"

Jamie glares right back. "You yelled a lot and I kissed you so you'd stop."

Tyler shakes his hands fee of the t-shirt then holds up a single finger. "Hold up. What actually happened was I confessed my undying love and you blinked at me. That's what happened."

Tyler can actually see Jamie thinking and then discarding several replies before he says flatly, "I may have misread that play." Tyler waits. Jamie's going to explain himself if Tyler has to beat it out of him, but he'd rather Jamie do it willingly.

Jamie doesn't say anything at first, but Tyler can see little expressions flicker across his face, like he's planning out the conversation before he even opens his mouth. If this is going to turn into a staring contest, well, Tyler's content to wait him out.

Okay, that's not actually true at all. Jamie's got that blank stare and there's no way that Tyler's winning a staring contest if it really comes down to it. Also, Tyler's feeling a little raked over the coals right now and giving Jamie an out isn't really something he's into.

Thankfully, Jamie finally starts to talk.

"I misread your play. I thought-- I thought you were just chirping, but then you..." he trails off, shoulders sinking and eyes dropping down to stare at the countertops. It's disconcerting, seeing Jamie so deflated. Tyler's seen him flying on game-winning adrenaline, cuddly and maudlin after too much bourbon, pissed at bad calls and stupid reporters, even defeated when he's convinced their loss was entirely his fault.

But this hopelessness? That's new, and Tyler's not at all surprised to find he wants to do whatever he can to fix it. Preferably without getting his own heart broken along the way. Because there's no use pretending any more. Either they're both all in, or nothing.

And Tyler's pretty damn sure they're both all in. If nothing else, he knows that 'there goes a thing I want but can't have' look that Jamie's wearing. But in case he's misreading the whole damn thing, in case Jamie wants him but doesn't actually want to be with him, Tyler tries to use his words.

"I dunno what you thought my play was or where I was going, but I wasn't chirping with all the looks and licking and touching and shit. It's fun to get a rise out of you, but--" Tyler takes a breath and steals a second to listen to the Greek chorus in his head (that sounds suspiciously like Brownie, Candace, and Cassidy). Don't fuck this up. Be clear. Tell him what you want, and keep it simple. "I figured you'd notice all that stuff and laugh, or you'd take what I was offering."

"Tyler. I didn't--" Jamie stops again and Tyler resists the urge to roll his eyes. Looks like it's all on him.

"I can't actually read your mind, and I'm not quite dumb enough to proposition a teammate without a hint that you might be into it."

"Proposition?"

"Oh for-- Dates, dude. And making out, and napping together, and all that. Ah, fuck it. Will you be my boyfriend? Check yes or no." It would be easier if Tyler had an actual piece of paper he could hand over, something to draw Jamie's attention away from how Tyler is shirtless in the middle of his kitchen, basically breathless as he waits for Jamie to catch up.

"Really? Me? You want-- Yes, fuck yes." Tyler decides to borrow Jamie's technique and applies his lips to Jamie's in what turns out to be a deliciously effective shut-up maneuver. Jamie's hands curl tentatively around Tyler's hips, and Tyler doesn't bother to suppress a shiver. He keeps the kiss light, though, because that's what Jamie seems to want.

It takes effort, but Tyler manages to lean back far enough to say, "You know, I've got a pretty great couch in the next room." The kitchen has its perks, but getting Jamie stretched out on the couch so Tyler can properly apply his lips to Jamie's everything.

At least Tyler's not the only desperate one, because they don't quite make it to the couch before Jamie tugs Tyler's hand, spinning him around and backing him into the wall. Tyler opens his mouth to object to the second round of manhandling and Jamie's there, tentatively pressing his mouth to Tyler's.

It's all the invitation Tyler needs and he pushes up, gives Jamie everything he can, with one hand smoothing over Jamie's hip while the other curls around those amazing biceps. Tyler applies himself to kissing Jamie like he can erase all the crappy parts of the last half hour if he just tries hard enough. Jamie returns the favor easily, nipping at Tyler's lower lip, soothing the hurt with the tip of his tongue, then repeating the process.

Since Jamie's still playing tentative, Tyler deepens the kiss and gets a thigh between Jamie's leg, gratified to feel evidence of Jamie's arousal that still matches his own. He runs with it, trailing little bites along Jamie's jaw and along the tendon standing out against his neck. He answers each sharp bite with a rock of his hips and finally, finally Jamie lets out a little gasping sigh.

"C'mon Jamie. Show me whatcha got."

Clearly that's what Tyler should have opened with; the hint of competition makes Jamie step up his game, tugging at Tyler's hair to tip his head back and dragging his teeth along the length of Tyler's jaw then breathing wetly against Tyler's ear.

"I've thought about this so much. Jerked off to the thought of your hand on my cock." Tyler wants so bad to roll his eyes again. Now's when Jamie finds his voice? After all that? But Jamie keeps going and Tyler is way more interested in the filth spilling from his lips than teasing him about much of anything right now. "Today, when you rubbed your ass all over me, it was all I could do to resist throwing you against the counter and licking and biting and sucking until you stopped. fucking. teasing!"

Jamie punctuates each word with a thrust of his hips, thigh rubbing deliciously against Tyler's cock. Tyler things briefly about pushing Jamie away so he can pull off his pants, but the thought of distance isn't particularly appealing, and hey, Jamie's got one hand on Tyler's ass, pulling their bodies tight together. 

Tyler was wired already, plus with Jamie's mouth on him, Jamie's broad hand digging into his ass, Jamie's firm thigh between his legs? Yeah, stamina is not the word of the day. "Can you come like this?" Jamie asks, then rocks his thigh up and sucks hard on the underside of Tyler's jaw, and yes, yes he can. 

Tyler's orgasm is abrupt enough to shock them both, though Jamie's quiet "Oh!" is drowned out by Tyler's slurred swearing as he comes. Jamie catches Tyler as he slumps forward and carefully guides him over to the couch, then settles close and laces his fingers through Tyler's. 

If Tyler could find his brain, he'd probably make fun of Jamie for that. He's also probably object to how Jamie made him come in his pants, even though he can't bring himself to regret it even a little. He does wiggle out of his remaining clothes, and Jamie even helps, in between kissing Tyler again and stroking his hands reverently over Tyler's abs.

Fully nude and far more comfortable, Tyler turns his attention to Jamie's pants, and the enticing way they're tented. Tyler subscribes to the belief that directness in bed (or on the couch) gets you what you want, so he says, "Can I suck you? I really, really want to," and then doesn't wait for Jamie's answer before folding to his knees with a sigh and a chorus of popping joints. 

Luckily, Jamie doesn't object at all, just goes with it, immediately tangling a hand in Tyler's hair and tugging just this side of too hard. Tyler's come-dumb fingers struggle with Jamie's belt and zipper, but Jamie's there to help again, unbuttoning and unzipping and fucking finally, pulling his cock out.

It's Tyler who moans first, at the sight of Jamie's broad hand wrapped firmly around his cock. Tyler licks his lips, and the breathy sigh that Jamie breathes out might be the best thing Tyler has ever heard. He doesn't make Jamie wait any longer, nudging Jamie's hand out of the way to wrap his own tanned fingers around Jamie's cock. 

Jamie sighs again, and Tyler takes that as permission. He fucking goes to town on Jamie's cock, licking down the length and sucking on the head and generally doing his damnedest to prove that Jamie needs Tyler on his cock all the time. 

As Jamie stutters out a few barely-formed sentences, Tyler decides that Jamie's not a talker during sex. Naturally, when Jamie manages a full sentence, he blindsides Tyler. He leads with "Fuck, you look hot like that. Your mouth, god." and it takes no time at all for Jamie to start in on how Tyler's hockey makes him hot, how he loves watching Tyler light up the ice, how amazing it will be when they get to lift the Cup together.

If Tyler shivers and sucks a little harder at that, well, yeah.

As Tyler works his hand and bobs his head, Jamie's babbles grow more frantic, descending from compliments to confession as he says, a little defiantly, "I don't care if it sounds dumb. I'm proud of you and how hard you work and I couldn't be happier to have you at my side. You put up with so much from me and god, Tyler..."

He trails off, then picks up again when Tyler lets his mouth go lax. "Amazing out on the ice, in the locker room, and--fuck!--amazing right now on your knees for me. We've got this whole season stretching out in front of us and I get to have you by my side the whole time." Jamie's voice goes quiet and a little shaky. "I still can't believe you want me. God, you're always si gorgeous, even with the duck." 

Tyler pulls back with an offended squawk.

"You _asshole_. You were so sweet and you had to go and fuck it up." Tyler would like to be offended, but Jamie's looking down at him with this light shining from his stupid face and Tyler just starts laughing.

Which of course sets Jamie off, until they're both wheezing, Jamie clearly desperate for oxygen and orgasm in equal measure. Tyler drops his head against Jamie's hip and giggles some more, and hey, Jamie's cock is right there, so he leans over and kisses it.

Except then Jamie makes a really terrible noise that is half a laugh and half a moan, which makes Tyler lose his shit all over again, even though he's still got his mouth on Jamie. 

Tyler mostly mashes his face against Jamie's cock, kisses mangled up with giggles, and it's somehow totally unsurprising that Jamie comes all over his stomach and Tyler's face while they're both still helpless with laughter.

Afterward, Jamie doesn't so much slide as flop off the couch, giggling and gasping, patting at the wet smears on Tyler's face in an uncoordinated attempt at clean up.. Tyler bites at Jamie's fingers when they brush his lips, because why not? But he tucks himself against Jamie and leans until they both topple sideways, splayed out across the carpet.

"Hey. Hey Tyler." Jamie's voice is still slurred a little, and he pokes at Tyler's cheek until Tyler makes eye contact. "I'm checking yes."


End file.
